


It Does Not Do to Dwell on Dreams

by jdale



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Wicked - Schwartz/Holzman
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Book 4: Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire, Flustered Elphaba Thropp, Glinda Upland Leaves Oz, Grimmerie, Legilimency, Multi, Parseltongue, Power the Dark Lord knows not, Threesome - F/F/M, Triwizard Tournament, post-musical
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-16
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:54:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23172013
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jdale/pseuds/jdale
Summary: An immigrant witch and her muggle husband get lost on their way home from his job and stop at 4 Privet Drive to ask directions, where they discover seven-year-old Harry Potter living in conditions barely better than slavery. Unwilling to abandon him to the same loveless childhood they themselves had, the couple offer to take young Harry in and raise him as their own. Vernon and Petunia are all too happy to have the boy off their hands and sign over guardianship as quickly as the legal system will allow.Deciding to start a journal to record her experience of raising him, Harry’s new mother quickly discovers something unusual; the journal is linked with another one, owned by a witch from her homeland, and whatever is written in one journal appears in both. The two witches strike up a friendship through their writings in the journals, sharing life experiences and useful spells with each other.Years later, Voldemort’s sabotage of the Triwizard Tournament sets in motion a chain of events that would finally bring the two pen pals together face-to-face.
Relationships: Elphaba Thropp & Glinda Upland, Elphaba Thropp/Fiyero Tiggular, Elphaba Thropp/Fiyero Tiggular/Glinda Upland, Harry Potter & Elphaba Thropp & Fiyero Tiggular
Kudos: 30





	1. Chapter 1

Pain exploded in Harry’s scar. It was by far the worst he’d ever experienced. Instinctively, his hands went to cover it, as if that would somehow lessen the pain, and he realized belatedly that his wand had slipped from his fingers in the process.

“Cedric…” he gasped out, although his voice was so weak he doubted the older boy could hear him, “I’m sorry…I don’t think I’ll be able to…to give you any help with this one.”

A high, cold voice cut through Harry’s mental fog. “Kill the spare.”

“ _Ava_ —” a second voice began, but it cut off with a gasp almost immediately.

Cedric wasted no time. “ _Stupefy_!”

Harry heard a muffled thump as the would-be murderer hit the ground, and then the pain in his scar faded away.

“Harry?” Cedric asked, worry creeping into his tone.

Harry scooped up his wand from where it had fallen and quickly got to his feet, scanning the vicinity for other potential threats. Almost immediately, his eyes landed on a swirl of blue-white magic spiralling up out of the ground directly on the opposite side of them from where their attacker had approached. _That must’ve been why he hesitated,_ Harry thought. _He saw the beginnings of this and didn’t know what to make of it._

Harry and Cedric watched in amazement as the swirl of magic slowly faded away, revealing a woman wearing an extravagant ballgown the same blue-white color as the swirl of magic that had brought her there. Her face was framed by a legion of silky blonde curls, which were themselves topped by an elaborate gem-encrusted tiara. In one hand, she held a gleaming silver pole almost as long as she was tall with an intricately bejewelled tip that reminded Harry of the toy wands that came with muggle Hallowe’en costumes. Her other hand held a battered, leather-bound volume that looked entirely out of place with the woman’s glamourous outfit.

The woman began moving to brandish the pole at them but then stopped and looked around in confusion.

“Can we help you?” Cedric asked uncertainly.

“Well,” the woman said, peering intently at her book, “if I translated this thing correctly, the spell I just cast was supposed to either tell me that none of my friends were in danger or, if one of them was, transport me to the location of the one in the most danger, but…I don’t think I know either of you.”

Harry and Cedric looked at each other, and Cedric shrugged and shook his head, conveying to Harry that he’d never heard of a spell with that effect before.

The woman’s expression became thoughtful. “Unless…I don’t suppose one of you has a diary that you write in, and then a few days later someone else writes back to you?”

Harry’s eyes widened. “No, but my mother does.”

Harry had had a brief freak-out about his adoptive mother’s interactive journal after the whole mess with young Voldemort’s diary in his second year, but they had taken the journal to the Ministry to be examined when he got home that summer, and the Ministry curse-breakers assured them that the only spell on the journal was a Protean Charm linking it with an identical journal somewhere else. Apparently, the woman standing before them was the owner of that other journal.

The woman looked at him thoughtfully. “You know, now that you mention it, I do recall my pen pal saying something about having a son. What was it, Henry?”

“Harry,” he corrected.

“Harry!” the woman repeated. “Sorry about that. I knew it was something along those lines.”

“That’s quite alright,” Harry assured her.

The woman pursed her lips and looked around. “Where are we, anyway? Somewhere in the Vinkus?”

Harry froze.

“Frankly, we’re not entirely certain where we are,” Cedric admitted, “although I must confess I don’t know where the…Vinkus, did you say?”

Seeing the woman nod, Cedric continued, “I don’t know where that is, either.”

Meanwhile, Harry had finally recovered from his shock at the woman’s question. “You’re Ozian,” he said in disbelief.

The woman looked at him in confusion. “You’re not?”

Harry shook his head. “My parents are—well, technically adoptive parents, but anyhow, they are, but I’m not, and neither’s he,” he finished with a gesture at Cedric.

The woman was shocked. “Are we—are we even in Oz at all, then?”

“Doubtful,” Harry replied.

The woman hummed. “Well, then maybe while I’m here, I can help you two unlostify yourselves.”

Cedric looked at Harry, the question clear in his eyes. _Unlostify?_

Harry’s brow furrowed, a suspicion as to the woman’s identity beginning to form in his mind.

“Do you know which direction you’re going?” the woman asked.

Cedric motioned the woman closer, then laid his wand flat on his palm and incanted, “ _Locare_ Hogwarts.”

The wand spun on his palm until it was pointing in a vaguely northwesterly direction.

“Alright, the two of you gather close,” the woman told them, “and let me know when we’re almost there!”

Harry and Cedric moved together until they and the woman were all standing within a foot or two of each other. With a wave of the woman’s wand—and Harry was certain now that the long pole she carried was a wand of some sort—the three of them were encased in a translucent bubble that then lifted them off the ground and began to float through the air in the direction Cedric’s wand had indicated.

The soft glow from the bubble’s surface gave Harry enough light to confirm his suspicion. “Glinda Upland?”

She nodded. “Although almost no one calls me Upland anymore. Ever since that stupid ‘Glinda the Good’ propaganda campaign, it’s like people think ‘the Good’ is my last name.”

The woman—Glinda—turned to Cedric. “Any idea how far away we are?”

Cedric shook his head. “It’ll probably be a while. The portkey that brought us out here seemed like it took us a pretty good distance.”

“Well, then, since it sounds like we’ve got some time to kill,” Glinda said, turning to Harry, “why don’t you tell me a little about your mother? She hasn’t really talked that much about herself in our writings.”

Harry looked at her appraisingly. “I take it you haven’t talked that much about yourself, either.”

She smiled sheepishly. “Well, it’s…like I alluded to earlier. Everyone in Oz is so caught up in all the ‘Glinda the Good’ propaganda Horrible Morrible put out all those years ago that it’s almost impossible to find anyone I can talk to as just Glinda. Not since…”

Glinda’s voice trailed off, and she squeezed her eyes shut in an attempt to fight back tears. After a long moment, she continued, “It was so refreshing being able to talk to someone who would treat me as a normal person that I didn’t want to ruin it for myself by letting on that I was the vaunted Glinda the Good.”

Suddenly, she frowned and looked at him. “Wait, are you…saying this is someone I would know?”

Harry nodded but said nothing more, curious whether she would be able to puzzle it out on her own.

Glinda bit her lip and began to think out loud. “But who do I know that’s left Oz? The Wizard? No, you said it was your mother I’d been writing with.”

After a moment, she shook her head. “The only other person I can think of is the little girl who was in that house Morrible dropped on Nessa, but I wouldn’t really say I know her. I can’t even remember her name.”

Harry shook his head. “I guess my father was right all those years ago.”

Screwing up his voice into the best imitation of his father he could muster, Harry looked Glinda directly in the eye and said, “People are so empty-headed they’ll believe anything!”

The bubble’s forward motion jolted to a sudden halt, nearly causing its occupants to lose their balance and fall. For a brief moment, Harry was worried the bubble might collapse and send them plummeting to the ground below, but it held firm.

Glinda was staring at Harry in open-mouthed shock. “You can’t possibly be implying what I think you’re implying.”

Harry grinned mischievously. “Oh, I assure you, Miss _Ga_ linda, that’s exactly what I’m implying.”

Glinda’s arms went for the surface of the bubble, and she slowly lowered herself to a seated position. “How…?”

“Trap door,” Harry replied easily.

“But…the…the Time Dragon Clock said…” Glinda muttered to herself in disbelief.

“Wait,” Cedric interrupted. “Wait a minute. Wait a minute. _What_ are you two _on_ about?”

“She and my mother were dormmates,” Harry explained. “My mother was a political dissident who was eventually forced to fake her own death and flee the country along with my father. Glinda here was unwittingly turned into a figurehead for the discriminatory policies of the administration in power at the time and didn’t realize she was on the wrong side until it was too late.”

Turning to Glinda, he added, “And as for the Time Dragon Clock, I really don’t know enough about how the thing works to speak authoritatively, but _clearly_ it was somehow fooled. Whether my mother had to actively do something to fool it or it was just fooled on its own, I don’t know, but if you’re that curious, you can ask her when we get to Hogwarts.”

That seemed to bring Glinda back to reality, at least to some extent, as the bubble slowly began moving once more.

“Do you…do you have a picture of them?” Glinda asked.

Harry nodded, bringing it out of his pocket and handing it to her. Tears welled up in her eyes once more, and, in a voice barely above a whisper, she spoke her friend’s name aloud for the first time since her supposed death. “Elphie…”

Glinda looked up from the photo and smiled. “She…she found a way to degreenify herself.”

“Well, not entirely,” Harry told her. “She uses a glamour to hide it, but her actual skin is still green underneath the glamour.”

“Still, she must be thrilled to have a way to at least appear normal,” Glinda replied.

“Not as thrilled as she was when the healers at St. Mungo’s found a way to reverse her partial transfiguration of my father,” Harry responded.

“Wait, I thought spells were irreversible once cast,” Glinda said in confusion.

Harry looked at her as if she’d suddenly sprouted a second head. “No, who told you _that_?”

Glinda’s expression darkened. “Morrible,” she spat the name as if it were a curse.

“The number-two woman in the administration that forced my mother into exile,” Harry said for Cedric’s benefit.

“She probably said it just to make Elphie hate herself even more for having been tricked into casting that spell on the monkeys,” Glinda fumed.

“Well, she lied,” Harry responded.

Suddenly, Glinda’s expression seemed to brighten a little. “Do you know how they got here from Oz? If they were able to help Fiyero here, maybe they can do something for Biq!”

Harry looked at her in confusion. “Who?”

“The munchkin boy Elphie accidentally turned to tin trying to save him after Nessa bespelled his heart,” Glinda said.

Realization struck Harry. “Oh, you mean Boq!”

Glinda shrugged. “Something along those lines.”

Harry just shook his head and chuckled. “My mother did say you were pants at remembering names.”

Glinda’s attention returned to the photograph. “Who’s this with you?”

“Sirius Black,” Harry told her. “My godfather. For the longest time, everyone thought he was the one who betrayed my birth parents’ location to the Dark Lord who killed them, but it came out at the end of last year that he’d been framed. Once we found that out, my mother was able to engage a solicitor on his behalf and get him his day in court, which he’d somehow never had initially due to a clerical error. That picture was taken outside the courtroom just after he was officially declared innocent.”

Glinda’s eyes widened. “A Dark Lord?”

Harry nodded. “It’s a bit of a long story…”

* * *

The scene at Hogwarts was chaos. The Triwizard Cup was supposed to have been a portkey that would deliver the victorious champion to the judges’ stand to be presented with the prize money, but when it activated, the two Hogwarts champions were nowhere to be found.

The Krums and Delacours had gone to wait outside the medical tent for word on the conditions of Viktor and Fleur, respectively. Elphaba, Fiyero, Sirius, and Cedric’s parents, meanwhile, had gone down to the judges’ stand in search of answers.

“I don’t understand how they could both be missing!” Amos Diggory said hotly.

“If they both grabbed the cup at the same instant, whether by chance or through planning, they both would have been taken by the portkey,” Dumbledore explained.

“Alright, well if we assume that’s the case, they were tied on points entering the Task, so we can’t use that as a tiebreaker,” Ludo Bagman said.

“There are people _missing_ , you insensitive twat!” Sirius thundered. “Maybe we can try to _find them_ before we worry about the result of a stupid tournament?”

“I’ve already called out an Auror forensics team to trace the portkey’s destination,” Minister Fudge replied imperiously. “They should be arriving any moment now.”

At this point, the steadily growing murmur in the spectators’ stands reached a level at which those down on the judges’ stand could hear it. Looking over at the spectators’ stands, they saw several in the crowd pointing to the southern sky. Following the spectators’ pointing with their eyes, they saw a glowing ball of light that stuck out like a sore thumb against the blackness of the night sky. As it grew closer, they could begin to make out the outlines of human forms inside the ball.

Fiyero’s jaw was hanging wide open as he looked from Elphaba to the ball of light and back again. “Is that…?”

“No…it can’t be…” Elphaba breathed.

But it was. The bubble landed right in the centre of the judges’ stand and dissolved into nothingness. Harry and Cedric were immediately dragged away to be interrogated by the judges about what had happened since their disappearance. Cedric’s parents followed closely behind, as did Sirius, leaving the three Ozians staring dumbly at one another.

It was Elphaba who finally broke the silence. “Glinda…”

Glinda found herself fighting back tears once more. Seeing the photograph was one thing, but having Elphaba actually standing in front of her, living and breathing and whole and _real_ …Glinda felt her throat close up as she was overcome by emotion, and the only response she could offer was to pull her friend into a fierce hug and hold on tight.

The two women were still hugging when Harry returned several minutes later. Seeing his approach over Glinda’s shoulder, Elphaba reluctantly released one arm and pivoted so she and Glinda could both face Harry.

“You alright, Harry?” Fiyero asked.

Harry sighed. “It’s ridiculous. Cedric and I just got kidnapped by forces unknown, who were about to _kill_ one of us until they got distracted by Glinda’s timely arrival—and did I ever thank you for that?”

“Always happy to help,” Glinda said with a smile.

“—but Sirius and Professor Dumbledore are the only ones who actually seem to care about any of that. The rest just want to know who won the bloody Tournament,” Harry finished huffily.

“Good grief!” Fiyero declared emphatically. “Get your priorities straight, people!”

“What I want to know is—and Glinda, not that I’m not happy to see you again, but—how?” Elphaba asked.

Harry went over and picked up Glinda’s book, which she had dropped in going to embrace Elphaba. “I’m guessing this.”

Elphaba’s eyes widened. “The Grimmerie.”

Glinda nodded. “See, the thing is, the spell I used was to take me to the location of whichever of my friends was in the most danger, and I didn’t realize that was going to take me out of Oz entirely—”

“—and you don’t know how to get back,” Elphaba interrupted.

Glinda nodded again.

“Well, you’re welcome to stay with us until you figure out a way back,” Fiyero offered.

“And it’s good to hear you still consider me a friend even after all these years,” Elphaba said with a fond smile.

“Actually, there’s a little more to it than that,” Harry put in.

Elphaba looked at him with a mix of surprise and confusion.

Motioning from Elphaba to Glinda with a broad grin, Harry said, “Meet your pen pal.”

Elphaba turned to Glinda in shock. “ _You’re_ the one who owns the other journal? Oh, Glinda, if I’d known it was you—”

Glinda cut her off by pulling her into an embrace. “Yeah, I could say the same thing. It was just so nice being able to talk to someone who wasn’t starstruck by all the propaganda—”

“And I was pretty sure whoever I was communicating with was Ozian, so I didn’t want to let on anything that might allow them to figure out I was the so-called ‘Wicked Witch,’” Elphaba replied.

Harry did his best to school his features into a sagacious expression and said, “As Professor Dumbledore told me once, it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live. Don’t beat yourselves up over what you could have done or would have done under different circumstances; just make the most of it now that you do know.”

Glinda looked over at Harry and then back at Elphaba, one corner of her mouth twisting into a wry smile. “Smart kid.”

“If you think he’s smart, you ought to see his girlfriend,” Fiyero said.

Harry rolled his eyes. “For the last time, Hermione is _not_ my girlfriend! She’s more like a sister to me than anything else!”

“ _Sure_ she is,” Fiyero teased.

Harry shot him a withering glare.

“Glinda, while you’re here, we ought to get you to Ollivanders for a wand,” Elphaba said.

“I already have a wand!” Glinda protested, picking it up from where she had dropped it and holding it up so Elphaba could see.

“Not like ours,” Elphaba replied, reaching into her cloak and withdrawing her own wand.

Unlike Glinda’s, which was long enough to double as a melee weapon if need be, Elphaba’s wand was so short it would be nearly impossible to use two-handed, and its tip was devoid of any sort of ornamentation.

Glinda suppressed a chuckle. “It’s black.”

Elphaba grinned. “Ebony with a dragon heartstring core, thirteen and a half inches long. And Glinda, it’s amazing how much my magic has stabilised since I started using this wand. It’s—I can actually get my spells to work correctly now instead of going haywire.”

“Well, I can certainly see how a wand that size would be a lot easier to carry around,” Glinda remarked.

“Does that mean you’re interested?” Elphaba asked hopefully.

Glinda looked at her for a moment and then burst out laughing.

Elphaba looked hurt. “What?”

“Sorry,” Glinda said once she had collected herself. “It’s just…now I think I know how you must’ve felt when I decided to give you a makeover after the party at the Ozdust.”

Elphaba’s eyebrows shot nearly up to her hairline. “Am I really being that bad about this?”

“Well, no, but…” Glinda’s voice trailed off, and she went in for another hug. “I missed you, Elphie.”

“I missed you, too, Glinda,” Elphaba replied.

“You know,” Glinda said after a long moment, “if not for all my stuff being back in Oz, I’d be half-tempted to just stay here permanently.”

“I may be able to help you with that if you want,” Harry offered.

The two witches turned to face him and saw him looking at a page in the Grimmerie with a thoughtful expression.

“You can read it?” Glinda asked in surprise.

“It’s in parsel,” Harry replied by way of explanation. Turning the Grimmerie around so Glinda could see it, he pointed at a spot about halfway down the left-hand page and said, “The accompanying commentary says the spell was originally crafted as a means for recovering stolen property, but there’s nothing there to indicate it wouldn’t work for just bringing your things to you from another location even if they’ve not been stolen.”

Glinda bit her lip in thought. “Since you seem to be able to read it so naturally, I don’t suppose there’s any way you can be the one to cast the spell?”

Harry shook his head. “It’s your things we’re trying to retrieve, so you’ve got to be the one to cast it. There may be a way I can help you, though. May I enter your mind?”

Glinda tilted her head in confusion. “What, you mean like telepathically?”

“Well, we call it Legilimency here, but essentially, yes,” Harry replied.

Glinda nodded determinedly. “What do you need me to do?”

“Clear your mind as much as possible and then look me in the eye,” Harry instructed.

When she had done so, Harry took a deep breath and entered her mind. _Can you hear me?_

 _Whoa!_ Glinda sent back, clearly startled. _Oz, that’s weird._

 _Wand ready?_ Harry asked.

 _Ready,_ Glinda confirmed.

 _Alright, I’ll speak the words into your mind; I just need you to repeat them out loud,_ Harry told her. _There’ll be a little bit of wandwork required; I’ll send you an image of what you need to do when you need to do it._

Fiyero and Elphaba watched with undisguised curiosity as Glinda began to speak in a series of low hisses. After about thirty seconds of this, her hissing grew louder, and she swung her wand in a circle above her head three times before pointing it directly in front of her.

Harry exited her mind and scurried clear as a bluish-white swirl of magic, similar to the one in which Glinda herself had arrived but much larger, began to spiral up out of the ground in front of Glinda’s wand. When the swirl dissipated, it left behind two wardrobes and several chests of drawers. Glinda immediately rushed forward and began going through them to make sure everything was there.

It was at about this time that Sirius returned. “What’d I miss?”

“I hope you won’t mind us having another houseguest, at least for the time being,” Harry said.

“Who, that beautiful young lady over there?” Sirius asked, waggling his eyebrows suggestively as he motioned at Glinda.

“Mind out of the gutter, Padfoot,” Harry said warningly.

Sirius pouted. “You never let me have any fun.”

Meanwhile, Glinda’s head and torso emerged from one of the wardrobes with a familiar object clutched to her chest. “Remember this, Elphie?”

A surprised smile crossed Elphaba’s features. “My hat!”


	2. Chapter 2

The morning after Harry arrived home on the Express, he, Sirius, Fiyero, Elphaba, and Glinda were seated around the dining room table eating breakfast.

“I still can’t believe Bagman _bet_ on you to win the tournament,” Fiyero remarked.

“Well, you have to remember, the vast majority of Ministry workers are as crooked as Dumbledore’s nose,” Sirius pointed out. “What _I_ can’t believe is that somehow a supposedly dead Death Eater managed to get the drop on _Mad-Eye Moody_ of all people and then successfully impersonate him for the better part of a year with no one any the wiser!”

“I’m just happy for Cedric more than anything else,” Harry put in. “It should’ve been his turn in the spotlight all along if not for Crouch, so him being awarded the victory means he’ll actually get the recognition he deserves.”

A chime from the parlour signaled an incoming Floo call. Elphaba set down her utensils and left to answer it. “Can I help you?”

“I’m Amelia Bones, Director of Magical Law Enforcement. I was hoping I could speak to your son regarding the events that occurred during and immediately after the Third Task of the Triwizard Tournament.”

“When would you like us to come in?” Elphaba asked.

“Actually, with minors, we prefer to interview them at home, if that’s possible,” Amelia replied. “We find that they tend to be more relaxed in a familiar environment.”

“Very well,” Elphaba said. “Why don’t you come on through?”

“Will it be alright if I bring two of my Aurors with me?” Amelia asked.

Elphaba nodded. “Certainly.”

Elphaba stepped back from the fireplace to allow the three to come through.

“Senior Auror Shacklebolt, Auror Third Class Tonks,” Amelia introduced her two companions.

“Can I get you anything?” Elphaba offered.

“Water?” Shacklebolt requested.

“Water for me as well,” Tonks said.

“Madam Bones?” Elphaba asked.

Amelia held up one hand. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Elphaba nodded. “Dobby!”

The excitable little elf appeared next to her with a soft _pop_. “What cans Dobby be doing for Master Harry’s Fabby?”

“Two glasses of water, if you please, Dobby,” Elphaba told him.

Dobby nodded eagerly and _popped_ away as quickly as he had entered.

She turned her attention back to the three visitors to find Amelia looking at her with a mildly amused expression. “He considers himself _Harry’s_ elf?”

Elphaba’s mouth twisted into a wry smile. “Harry tricked Lucius Malfoy into freeing the little guy two years ago, and he…he may have a small case of hero worship.”

Amelia chuckled as she and her two Aurors followed Elphaba into the dining room. Elphaba resumed her seat at the table, while the three newcomers conjured chairs for themselves.

“Mister Potter,” Amelia began, “we’ve been able to piece together a fairly comprehensive reconstruction of the events that occurred on the evening of the 24th, and…the picture it paints is rather less than pleasant.”

Harry raised one eyebrow but said nothing.

“We were able to trace the destination of the portkey spell that had been placed on the Triwizard Cup to a graveyard in Little Hangleton,” Amelia told him. “A team of Aurors was dispatched to that location, where they discovered an unconscious Peter Pettigrew and a homunculus housing the spirit of He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

“Tom Riddle,” Harry said.

Amelia frowned. “Pardon?”

“The wizard who dubbed himself Lord Voldemort,” Harry explained. “Real name Tom Marvolo Riddle. His father was a muggle, believe it or not, and his mother was a witch who died shortly after giving birth to him.”

Amelia’s eyes widened so much her monocle nearly fell out. “And _how_ , exactly, did you find all this out?”

“It was Riddle who opened the Chamber of Secrets back in the ‘40s,” Harry explained, “and an old diary of his possessed Ginny Weasley and used her to open it again two years ago. The diary revealed this information to me when I went down into the Chamber at the end of the year to stop it from sapping Ginny’s magic to form a new body for the imprint of Riddle’s personality it held within its pages.”

Amelia and the two Aurors exchanged worried looks with each other.

“Mister Potter, you may have just given us the information we needed to determine how…how Riddle was able to survive as a disembodied spirit following his failed attempt on your life back in ’81,” Amelia told him.

“Yeah, that’s the easy part,” Shacklebolt grumbled. “The hard part is figuring out how we get rid of him permanently this time.”

Harry’s brow furrowed in thought.

“Mister Potter?” Amelia asked.

“The Grimmerie,” Harry muttered under his breath, quickly getting up to go retrieve it.

Amelia looked at Elphaba in confusion. “The what?”

“The Grimmerie,” she repeated. “It’s a spellbook from my homeland that contains, among others, the spell that transported Glinda here to that…you said it was a graveyard?”

“Where the portkey took your son and Mister Diggory the evening of the 24th? Yes,” Amelia confirmed.

Harry reentered the room, set the Grimmerie down on the table, and began paging through it.

“Here,” he said after a moment, pointing to one of the pages. “Spell to banish a spirit to the afterlife.”

Amelia moved to look over his shoulder. “It looks like a bunch of nonsense scribblings to me.”

“It’s parsel,” Harry explained.

“We have the homunculus at the Department of Mysteries,” Amelia said. “The unspeakables there are studying it to see if they can determine how he survived. I’m sure we can arrange for you to be given access if that’s needed for you to cast this spell.”

“It’s not strictly necessary, but it’ll certainly improve the odds of success,” Harry replied.

Amelia nodded. “Then we do it.”

* * *

Around noon the next day, two unspeakables led Harry into a secure room deep within the bowels of the Ministry. Sirius, Elphaba, Fiyero, and Glinda accompanied him to provide moral support; Amelia was there to observe on behalf of the DMLE.

The shrivelled homunculus housing Voldemort’s spirit lay on a silver table on the far side of the room; other than that, the room was completely white. One of the unspeakables charged a runic array engraved on the wall, and a glowing purplish wall sprung into existence, separating the table from the rest of the room’s occupants.

“One-way shield ward,” the unspeakable explained. “Your magic will be able to pass through it and affect Riddle, but theoretically, anything he might try to do to fight back against your spell should be stopped by the ward.”

Harry nodded. “Nevertheless, the notes on the spell indicate there could be a magical backlash depending on the strength of the spirit, so I’d advise you standing as far away as you can while still staying on this side of the ward.”

The two unspeakables nodded and began herding the rest of the group to one end of the room while Harry himself moved to the opposite end. They then drew their wands and readied themselves to shield against any backlash that might occur.

“Whenever you’re ready,” one of the unspeakables told Harry.

Taking a deep breath, Harry opened the Grimmerie to the page he’d marked the previous morning, levelled his wand at the homunculus, and began to hiss.

As he completed the incantation about a minute later, he suddenly felt a splitting pain in his scar even worse than what he’d felt in the graveyard the night of the Task. It almost felt as if the wound he’d received all those years ago was reopening. He did the best he could to focus on something, anything to keep his mind functioning, but the pain quickly became too much to bear, and Harry felt his wand slip from his fingers as blackness overcame him.

* * *

Elphaba watched helplessly as her adoptive son crumpled to the floor, a black, tar-like substance oozing from his scar. Then, suddenly, the substance turned to a mist, floating through the ward and seeping into the skin of the homunculus. One of the unspeakables quickly moved to where Harry had fallen and began casting diagnostic spells over him.

At the same time, Glinda and Fiyero each put an arm around Elphaba’s shoulders in a silent offer of comfort. Elphaba, in return, put an arm around each of their shoulders before burying her head in the crook of Glinda’s neck, unable to watch.

“Looks like he had a soul fragment lodged in his scar,” she heard the one unspeakable tell his partner. “Probably unintentional on Riddle’s part.”

“Sweet Merlin!” the other unspeakable declared emphatically. “He’d probably have had to have made four or five intentional ones for that to happen.”

“I’d wager six,” the first unspeakable replied. “As crazy as the bastard was, he probably thought he’d get even more protection by dividing his soul in seven, since seven is the most magically powerful number.”

“What a nutcase,” the second unspeakable muttered.

“Is Harry gonna be okay?” Sirius asked.

“He should be fine in about an hour,” the first unspeakable reported.

Elphaba looked up just in time to see another cloud of black mist float into the room and seep into the homunculus’ skin.

“Basil, you stay here and monitor Riddle,” the first unspeakable told his partner. “I’ll take Mister Potter up to Medical.”

“Will do,” the second unspeakable—Basil—replied.

The first unspeakable levitated Harry’s unconscious form over the door and out of the room. Sirius, Elphaba, Fiyero, and Glinda followed the pair out, while Amelia remained behind with Basil.

* * *

Elsewhere in the Department of Mysteries, a prophecy orb darkened.

* * *

Harry awoke to find himself propped up in a hospital bed. “What happened?”

“It worked,” Amelia told him. “Apparently when Riddle tried to kill you back in ’81, part of his soul lodged in your scar, and when you cast the spell, it forced the piece of his soul that was in your scar to merge back in with the rest of his soul.”

“And that’s why I collapsed?”

Amelia nodded.

“So that’s it, then?” Harry asked. “Riddle’s done and dusted, never to return?”

“Yep,” Sirius confirmed. “You’re free to spend your last three years at Hogwarts partying hard, playing quidditch, and wooing witches.”

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. “Wooing?”

The door opened and a healer entered. “Well, Mister Potter, everything looks to be in order. I’d recommend you take it easy for a day or two, but you’re free to go.”

“Come on, Harry,” Elphaba said, taking his hand. “I think this calls for a trip to Fortescue’s.”

* * *

“So, Glinda, I see the ravages of time have yet to affect your sweet tooth,” Elphaba teased.

Glinda, being the adult that she was, responded by sticking her tongue out at Elphaba, an action that saw both women promptly dissolve into laughter. Once they had gotten themselves back under control, Glinda took a particularly large spoonful of ice cream and smirkingly shoved it in her mouth, setting Elphaba off once more.

Fiyero just shook his head and sighed indulgently at the blonde’s antics.

It had been a week since Glinda’s arrival from Oz, and he wasn’t quite certain what to make of her. She was in some ways exactly the same girl he remembered from their time at Shiz and yet at the same time so different in other ways that it was as if he was talking to someone else Polyjuiced to look like her.

She was telling Elphaba about the state of affairs back in Oz now; about how “Biq”—and somehow she still couldn’t get his name right even after all these years—had been named Nessa’s successor as governor of Munchkinland in recognition of his role in “killing” the “Wicked Witch of the West.” Apparently he had immediately ordered a renegotiation of Munchkinland’s trade agreements with the Vinkus, and the new agreement that had resulted was much less favourable to the Vinkus, ostensibly to “punish” them for “harbouring a dangerous fugitive.”

Glinda had a distinct air of world-weariness about her as she was telling Elphaba all this, Fiyero noticed. He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised; after all, even if she still considered Elphaba her best friend, he doubted she would have been willing to leave Oz permanently to be closer to her had the life she left behind been filled with nothing but sunshine and rainbows.

Glinda’s next words drew Fiyero out of his musings. “I was able to decipherate one of the other spells in the Grimmerie about…two years, maybe? About two years or so after you left that I was able to use to put Doctor Dillamond’s mind back together after what the Wizard did to him.”

Elphaba’s eyes lit up. “He can speak again?”

Glinda nodded. “They all can. Once I tried it on Doctor Dillamond and it worked, I put out an order that all the Animals who’d lost their ability to speak be brought in so I could cast the spell on them.”

“Oh, Glinda, that’s wonderful!” Elphaba said, grinning broadly.

A melancholy smile tugged at one corner of Glinda’s mouth. “I thought you’d like hearing about that.”

She shook herself slightly, and her mood brightened. “But enough about me. What’s life been like for you here in…what did you say this place was called again?”

“Britain,” Elphaba reminded her. “And it’s been pretty good, all things considered. For one thing, now that I know glamours, I can go out in public without everyone looking at me weird because of my skin.”

“And what radiant skin it is,” Glinda commented, looking at her friend appraisingly. “I know I said it the night after the Ozdust, and I meant it then, but…you really are beautiful, Elphie.”

Elphaba blushed. “Thanks, Glin.”

Glinda looked at her askance. “Glin?”

Elphaba’s blush deepened. “Sorry, it just…slipped out.”

“No, it’s fine,” Glinda assured her quickly. “I actually kinda like it. I’ve just…never heard you call me that before.”

Elphaba smiled sheepishly. “I…you always call me ‘Elphie,’ and…I guess my brain just decided I needed a nickname for you.”

“I like it,” Glinda replied. “And I really do think you’re beautiful, Elphie, and even more so now. I…I mean, I’m not saying you weren’t beautiful before, because you were, but now, you’re just…Fiyero’s a really lucky guy to have a girl like you, Elphie.”

Fiyero nodded in agreement. “And I remind myself of that fact every morning.”

“Complete change of subject,” Harry began, stepping in to save his mother before her cheeks reddened any further, “since we’re in Diagon Alley, why don’t we pop over to Ollivanders when we’re finished here and get Glinda a wand?”

“Great idea, Harry,” Elphaba agreed a little too enthusiastically.

The group continued to make small talk as they finished up their ice creams, and then they set off down the Alley to Ollivanders.

Ollivander was his usual mildly unsettling self.

“Sirius Black,” he greeted the first one through the door. “Walnut, eleven and a quarter inches, relatively stiff, yes? You get it back after your exoneration?”

Sirius nodded. “Still serves me just as well as the day I bought it.”

“Good, good,” Ollivander muttered. “And you, Mister Potter. Holly, eleven inches, nice and supple…and at its core a feather from the same phoenix as the wand that gave you that famous scar.”

Harry wasn’t sure how to respond so said nothing. To his relief, Ollivander quickly moved on.

“Elphaba Thropp. Ebony, thirteen and a half inches, quite springy. Continuing to work well for you?”

Elphaba nodded silently.

Finally, the old wandmaker’s eyes landed on Glinda. “And a newcomer, I see. From the continent?”

“Across the pond, actually,” Elphaba told him.

Ollivander hummed. “Right, then. What’s your name, young lady?”

“Glinda.”

“Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Ollivander said, reaching into his pocket for a tape measure. “Now, which is your wand arm?”

“My right,” Glinda replied.

Muttering something softly to himself, Ollivander drew his own wand and tapped the tape measure, which began to take various measurements of Glinda. After seeing the first few measurements, he moved over to the shelves and began pulling wand boxes down from them. When he returned a moment later, the tape measure had completed its measurements and dropped limply onto the counter.

“Try this one to start,” Ollivander said, taking the lid off one of the wand boxes. “Vinewood and phoenix feather, nine inches, very rigid.”

With a questioning look, Glinda tentatively picked up the wand from the box and began to wave it around like a conductor’s baton. Almost immediately, Ollivander snatched it out of her hand and put it back in the box.

“Here, perhaps this one,” he said, opening another box. “Pear and dragon heartstring, ten and a half inches, reasonably flexible.”

Again Ollivander plucked it from her hand almost as soon as she had picked it up.

“Okay, maybe…red oak and unicorn hair, eleven and three-quarters inches, inflexible.”

“No? Hmm, try this one. Larch and dragon heartstring, thirteen inches, whippy.”

“Here, try…dogwood and unicorn hair, twelve and a half inches, rigid.”

“Perhaps one a little less likely. Mahogany and phoenix feather, nine and a quarter inches, rather pliable.”

“No, no, that won’t do at all. Let’s try…hawthorn and unicorn hair, ten inches, quite supple.”

After about ten minutes of this, Ollivander went back over to the shelves and brought down another load of wand boxes.

“Not to worry, not to worry,” Ollivander assured her. “The wand chooses the witch, after all. We’ll find yours eventually. Maybe this one. Beech and dragon heartstring, thirteen and a half inches, fairly bendy.”

As Ollivander seized yet another wand back from her, Glinda was beginning to worry her arm would fall off before she found her match. She looked back over her shoulder and saw Harry giving her a reassuring smile.

With renewed vigour, Glinda turned her attention back to Ollivander, who was eyeing one of the wand boxes with a quizzical expression. “Perhaps…yes, let’s try this one. Spruce and unicorn hair, twelve and three-quarters inches, not overly flexible but not particularly rigid, either.”

As soon as Glinda picked up the wand, a shower of blue-white sparks shot forth from its tip.

“Good show, good show!” Ollivander cried.

Glinda smiled. “That’s it, then?”

Ollivander nodded, placing the wand back in its box and wrapping it in brown paper. “I was wondering when that wand might find its home.”

After paying for Glinda’s wand, the group left Ollivanders and made their way to the public Floos to return home.

* * *

Later that evening, the three Ozians were seated on the sofa in the lounge, while Harry occupied one of the armchairs. Sirius had departed after the evening meal to return to his flat.

“So, Glinda, what are your plans moving forward?” Fiyero asked.

Glinda sighed. “Well, from what I’ve seen of the sorts of magic they use here, it’s pretty different from the magic we use back in Oz, so I was sort of hoping maybe I could stay with you guys for a while and learn British magic from Elphie?”

Elphaba smiled, trying not to choke up. “I’m…I’m honoured that you would trust me to teach you, Glin.”

“Perhaps we should look into having some renovations done, then?” Harry suggested.

Both women looked at him in confusion. “Why’s that?”

“Well, if Glinda’s going to be staying with us for an extended period of time, that’ll tie up the guest bedroom,” Harry reasoned. “Since Sirius has been known to spend the occasional night here, and since I’ve been known to invite a friend to stay overnight every so often, I feel like we would be remiss not to have a bed available for the use of any short-term guests we might need to accommodate.”

Elphaba nodded. “I can certainly see the wisdom of that.”

“As do I,” Fiyero said slowly, “although I’m not entirely convinced we need to have the place renovated.”

Elphaba looked at him oddly. “Well, where exactly would you have us put an additional bed? In the closet?”

Fiyero shook his head. “That’s not what I meant. Stop me if I start sounding like a nutter.”

Elphaba silently raised one eyebrow at him.

“Glinda, you’ve…you’ve changed…a lot…since I bailed on you at our engagement party,” Fiyero began. “I…when we were at Fortescue’s this afternoon, I found myself wondering whether I’d have been nearly so quick to run off with Elphaba had I known this version of you when we were engaged. I mean, I probably still would have eventually, but…I’d certainly have been a lot more considerate about how I went about breaking it off with you.”

Glinda frowned at him in confusion. “Fiyero?”

“And from what I’ve been able to tell, you two are clearly still just as enamoured of each other as you were back then,” Fiyero went on.

Glinda blushed and let out a small squeak.

“Uh…perhaps I should…step out for a moment?” Harry offered.

“No, no, stay,” Elphaba said quickly, her brow furrowed. “Yero…what exactly are you getting at?”

Fiyero took a deep breath. “I think we…all three of us, I mean…I think we could make a go of it.”

Elphaba blinked at him owlishly. “You, me, and Glinda…together…romantically?”

Beside her, Glinda began chuckling softly to herself.

Elphaba turned to look at her. “What?”

Glinda smiled sadly, shaking her head. “I only wish he’d thought of it back then. Of course…If I’d just taken you up on your offer that day in the Emerald City…”

“What was it Harry said yesterday?” Fiyero wondered aloud. “Don’t obsess over what could have been, just make the most of what you have now?”

Harry nodded quickly. “I’m…just…gonna…go get ready for bed now.”

Elphaba barely noticed his departure. Now that the idea had been brought to her attention, she found herself increasingly intrigued by it. Her eyes landed on Glinda, and it was as if she was seeing her best friend for the first time again. She wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through Glinda’s flaxen curls…they looked so soft…and her lips…so pink…so full…so kissable…

“Glin,” she murmured softly. Their faces were just inches apart now.

“Elphie,” Glinda whispered, and the feel of her breath on Elphaba’s cheek made the hairs on the back of Elphaba’s neck stand up.

Their lips brushed softly together, filling Elphaba with warmth from head to toe. It was different from kissing Fiyero—not any better or any worse, just different. She felt a pair of hands gently massaging her shoulders— _Fiyero’s,_ she thought dimly, her brain muddled by pleasure—and leaned backwards into his touch, pulling Glinda with her so that the blonde was now lying on top of her.

“Yero,” Elphaba said breathlessly when her and Glinda’s lips parted, “I don’t know why you’re always calling yourself brainless. I don’t think Glin or I would _ever_ have thought of this.”

“A question for a later time, my sweets,” he replied, giving first Glinda and then Elphaba a gentle kiss on the forehead. “Right now, let’s just enjoy it.”

And enjoy it they did.


End file.
